


four times keane wrote fanfiction and one time he didn't

by cassandreia (orphan_account)



Category: theoretically we need a fandom but
Genre: F/M, Gen, Happy Birthday, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 20:25:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11260329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/cassandreia
Summary: 1.8K WORDS BECAUSE 18 YEARS OF HUMAN LIFE also if you tell me that's not 4 times I will gladly tell you I do not take math for a reason :D





	four times keane wrote fanfiction and one time he didn't

**Author's Note:**

  * For [everyone's favourite fanfiction author](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=everyone%27s+favourite+fanfiction+author).



Keane didn’t know when this torrid love affair with words began, to be certain.  

  
  
***

 

Maybe it all started back in Secondary Two, watching his more obnoxious classmates tackle each other onto the ground, grunting with the exertion but still reveling in the triumph of one’s physical strength over the other. He had wondered, then, if the unusually close friendship between the two was simply friendship, or perhaps something more, and when his pen next touched his paper, the words came flooding onto the page, straight out of his mind.

Later, he would label those his initial word-vomit pieces, disorganized stream-of-consciousness pieces recording every detail from the way the sunlight streamed through the windows to the beads of sweat on their foreheads. But at that time, it gave him a strange excess of satisfaction to see his words laid out like that – just ink, just paper – but so much more happiness-inducing than his homework, even if he did score exceptionally well on them.

Had he been more meticulous with them, you might be able to find those pieces today, tucked away in drawers, neatly pressed between the pages of a spiral notebook. Then again, it’s not like you could’ve deciphered that scrawl anyway – frantically scribbling during class-time, furtively sneaking glances all around, hoping the teacher wouldn’t notice – none of this helped his handwriting much, really. Yet, Keane enjoyed this whole experience: it was thrilling really, to write such things no one imagined of him ( _surely the A star student wouldn’t read, let alone write, fanfiction?_ ), and it gave him a nice outlet to release stress. After all, in this miniature universe, he alone was the final creator, weaving strands of thought together, and he could make anyone a hilarious caricature with a few taps of his fingers. It was strangely exhilarating.    

***  

He hadn’t really meant to continue it – after all, it had served its purpose as a funny diversion from life’s troubles, and that’s all it had been meant to be. Alas, it seemed his muse was here to stay, and what originally had just been a distraction from the monotony of class soon became a habit. It was kind of therapeutic, like diary-writing, but somewhat different too, and he enjoyed it nonetheless.

“Hey, what’s that?”

Startled, Keane turned his face towards the source of the voice, and saw Zhi Yu grinning cheekily at him.

“Aha, I’ve caught you in the act!”

“…Huh? What act?” Keane pretended to be confused while discreetly trying to shove the piece of paper between his worksheets. Oh damned paper, why didn’t it just slide in the space the way he knew it could?

Narrowing his eyes slightly, Zhi Yu shifted closer. “I know you’ve been scribbling on that for the past hour, and it’s definitely not notes since it’s not like he teaches anything worth nothing down anyway… so what’s on that paper?”

Sighing a little bit, Keane wondered if he would be disowned as a friend now that he had been caught in the action of writing gay fanfiction, especially when the protagonists were two of Zhi Yu’s best friends. Would it still be possible to tear the paper up?

Lost deep in his thoughts, Keane barely caught a flash of movement in his peripheral vision before he noticed that Zhi Yu was now holding a piece of paper triumphantly.

“Fine … I’ll tell you.” Here goes …

“Is that it?” Zhi Yu laughed.

“I’d thought it was a bigger thing than that, with all your apprehension about telling us!”

To Keane’s mild astonishment (and amusement), Zhi Yu seemed to have taken it better than expected. Was it such a mainstream thing nowadays? Surely he would have noticed a sudden profusion of Hwa Chong related usernames appearing on Fanfiction.net.

“It’s not as spicy as I thought it would be.” Upon a quick scan of the entire paragraph on the paper (just an introduction – he’d spent half an hour just deciding on the plot), Zhi Yu commented off-handedly.

“Eh?” And though this was not where his affair with fanfiction began, Keane would forever remember this day: it was the day he truly learnt of the boundaries (or rather, the lack thereof) of fanfiction.

***

In the blink of an eye (or rather, in countless blinks, since it did seem like a forever in its own right), it was time to get promoted. But this was so much more than the usual promotion, being thankful to have passed the MSG 3.0 criteria. Indeed, this promotion marked a brand new phase of their lives – advancing to junior college: it was apparently a huge feat.

Keane was kind of bored. It wasn’t as if he’d been at risk of retaining or having to do extra assessments simply to enter JC. To him, it was simply the natural progression in the Integrated Program. And this graduation ceremony was awfully boring. He couldn’t keep count of the number of times he’d watched people go up on stage and do their thing (bow, shake some hands – careful not to grip too hard, and smile).

He turned around, looking to engage a classmate or two in small talk, except they all looked prim and proper and excited ( _Hwa Chong boys being prim and proper? Were pigs flying yet?_ ); too excited to do anything but anticipate their turn. He sighed a bit internally, but it wasn’t like he was too disappointed anyway.

In the four years, he’d made most of his friends in CCA, and then there was the meme gang – but fanfiction had been his only constant companion (fine, and his muse). No matter where he was, when inspiration hit, he always had some form of writing material ready: pen, paper, the occasional restaurant napkin, sometime his phone if he was on the bus. Over the years he had accumulated quite the impressive portfolio (and quite the collection of strange pairings: it gave him a bit of parental pride to think that the spiciness level would give just about anyone a shock)

His following of loyal readers had grown to accommodate the entire meme gang too – though of course he was careful to keep his creations from the eyes of those concerned. As funny as it would be he didn’t know if it would offend them, and he wasn’t a big fan of losing friends in such a manner. They had been performing on his imaginary stage for years and years on end, and he planned to keep it that way.

***

“I totally think my team could still have done better though … against SAS for example,” remarked Kenneth, looking a bit disgruntled. Next to him, JY laughed a bit and suggested he be content as a newbie to the scene; it wasn’t as though they’d had the years of experience both SAS and NPS had gained.

Keane noticed JY didn’t seem too happy himself. Maybe his bid to be more proactive in First Aid Club wasn’t being taken well by the current student leadership? It wasn’t like JY to have issues academically anyway. Hm… it seemed the only way to find out would be to ask.

“So ... what’s this IHBB thing you keep talking about?” They’d been talking about it for quite some time already, and the rest seemed to already know about it or have more interest in their food – it was hard to tell. The acronym sounded like a terminal disease, if he had to say so himself.

“Oh … it’s this history competition under HACAS we both signed up for. It’s not actually that big of a thing, idk. I figured something called the International History Bee and Bowl would have more competitors in each category than like, seven teams?”

“Yes, seven teams, half of which my team couldn’t defeat. Noted without thanks.”

Ah. So his team’s performance was the source of his tilt. Granted, Keane had gathered from the earlier conversation that JY’s team was substantially weaker than Kenneth’s, following History Wing’s current strategy. Still, it seemed JY had expected a better performance.

“Actually, Keane, do you want in? The questions are really not hard and you could totally handle this.”

Was Kenneth actually extending an invitation to him? The whole competition sounded kind of dodgy, but then again if the questions were that easy … there was no harm trying, was there?

“How are the questions like?”

***

Thinking back, Keane figured IHBB might have been more trouble than it was worth – for those involved in the whole senior business anyway. Messy was an understatement: the whole thing had so many twists and turns the ones involved often spent the entire dinner just ranting about the events of the past week. It was getting a little boring.

Maybe this was where fanfiction would help him again. After all, the senior’s actions were ridiculous enough, and it wasn’t like much was needed to make it seem ludicrous. Meh, unchallenging. Perhaps that Shyam x WJ would be more interesting to write – he’d already started deciding on their metaphors and pet names for each other (ooh, spicy.)  

“Aww ... are you ditching me for your new bae?” With a wiggle of his eyebrows, Zhen Yang winked at Kenneth.

Now that was a funny ship. Keane wasn’t sure how the Catholic would take it (probably thinking unchristian thoughts the whole time? Or repenting his sins) but it sure would be funny to write from that POV. Alternatively, the recent source of Kenneth’s tilt could serve as juicy fodder for writing too. From what he’d heard, it seemed she was either entirely unaware of his intentions, or thought they were all just joking around. Writing a piece where Kenneth finally confessed to her … now that would really be quite entertaining.

Keane roughly estimated the time needed for each piece, and figured the Shyam x WJ could wait a while: they’d been colleagues forever and it didn’t seem any recent developments would fuel immediate progression in their relationship. The other two on the other hand …

***

The twenty-first of June, 2017.

Keane was sitting with the gang, waiting to finally order - god he was famished - when he received a Whatsapp notification. Strange … it wasn’t from bItCh HoTeL 2. Clicking on the Ao3 link, he was surprised to find that someone had documented his entire relationship with fanfiction: his reliance on it for emotional comfort, the way he moulded and developed each and every of his works gently and carefully, a side he could only ever show to his fanfiction. In return, his fanfiction was all his: his channel to express stress, his favourite confidante, the best listener to his innermost thoughts; and though he sometimes shared it with others, none of them would ever understand the way he felt when crafting his pieces. Untroubled, carefree – euphoric even. He smiled.

Keane x fanfiction … now that was a real good one.

**Author's Note:**

> 1.8K WORDS BECAUSE 18 YEARS OF HUMAN LIFE also if you tell me that's not 4 times I will gladly tell you I do not take math for a reason :D


End file.
